


Once Upon A Dream

by Calcasieu1959



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calcasieu1959/pseuds/Calcasieu1959
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had danced with them before. In a dream. Or had it been a nightmare?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I pick a song and write. Not my usual snark. Feedback would be nice. :)  
> I'll even take suggestions. 
> 
> You can find the version of the song this was written to here: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8waJ7W3QcJc
> 
> I don't have a title for this series or the universe yet. But I do have about five pages of backstory.

Stiles stared at his ceiling. The moon was close to full. Clouds scudded past making the night eerie and sort of sad. Maybe it was just him. 

An anchor. It held something fast. In place. So the anchored couldn’t drift with the tide. Yeah anchor. 

An anchor. It pulled everything down. Into the deep and darkness. The silence where the currents shifted and hid and revealed secrets. 

He was an Anchor. Did he hold them stable? Or did he just drag them down? 

And in a tiny cruel corner of his mind he wondered if he was the anchor or the anchored. Was he holding them in place? Sometimes dragging them down with him? Or was it…that he was the one being pulled into the darkness? 

He wasn’t in his happy place tonight. Neither were they. He could hear the music. It should be happy. Or at the very least, pleasant. Not this melancholy take on an old song. 

He couldn’t stay in the bed any longer. He had to get up and move. To keep from drowning in the sadness. If he moved, the shadowy tendrils couldn’t hold him as well. Keep moving. Always keep moving. It was just a part of him now. Something that no amount of drugs or frowns or punishments could totally stop. He had to keep some part of himself free and moving. 

He wrapped his arms around himself. Remembering the touch and scent of them. So different and yet parts of the same. That odd look in their eyes sometimes. The fond amusement. The stillness and quietness. 

The shy hesitation wondering if they were truly welcome to come close and share warmth and touch with him. If he was real or when they reached for him, he would turn into vapor and drift apart. 

Sometimes he wondered that too. If he was drifting apart. Was it contagious? Inherited? Or something that had gotten it hooks into him as he had helped them battle against the insidious thorny vines that crept out when they were resting and wrapped around any unwary prey? 

Did it even fucking matter? It was. Just deal with it. Keep moving. 

Stiles began to move in slow circles. Sway then step. Sway then step. This wasn’t the bouncy song. This was the sad song. The one where they held each other tightly and buried faces against necks. Like that picture he had seen of the monkeys huddling together to keep from freezing in a snowstorm. 

Stiles looked out his window. 

At the end of the yard, there was a figure. The gates to the woods had been opened. If they had lit a fire, his Dad was going to be pissed. 

He had better go and check it out before anyone else woke up. Shoes would be smart. Hoodie. Ready. He eased out of his window and down the trellis and down the familiar path. 

It wasn’t a good night. He could see that even before he got close. The heavy black robe was a dead giveaway long with the fact that the hood was up. 

Death Eater without the mask look. Wonderful. 

The figure stopped swaying and shifted to face him. 

Stiles felt his bladder clench. Maybe not so funny now with the Harry Potter quips. 

The figure waited. Swaying softly to music only they could hear. 

There was a connection between them. It had happened years ago when they were both younger and more vulnerable. Usually it was quiet. Just a background hum. 

Then there were the other times. 

Maleficent. He had stupidly watched the movie. The song had stuck with him. With them.

I know you I walked with you once upon a dream.

That time had been like a dream. And a nightmare in parts. But they had survived. They had all survived what had happened and what had been done to them.

For their own good. The bullshittiest of all bullshit words. 

For other people’s convenience. 

Because sometimes just making it through a day and night was an astounding accomplishment worthy of glitter stars and sparkles. Pink sparkly nail polish on toenails. Hidden from a world that didn’t quite understand. 

Stiles sighed. He was cold. Deep inside. He was so tired. 

He walked toward the waiting figure. Darkest of shades. Hooded and hidden. They were old friends. They had met in passing many times. They had touched. 

And on nights like tonight, Stiles walked into the waiting arms and felt them enfold him. 

Huddled together like monkeys in a snowstorm. 

One of them began to sway. 

The other picked up the song with a soothing croon.

I know you I danced with you once upon a dream.

They moved together in a slow waltz.

Losing themselves in a dream.

You’ll love me at once the way you did once upon a dream. 

To be loved. Accepted. To belong. To be worthy. To be valued.

A dream with two dreamers.


End file.
